In Hell
by paperspiral
Summary: Sabretooth 616 is stuck in hell, see if he manages to get out  alive. Based on Wolverine Goes to Hell.
1. Chapter 1

**All characters belong to Marvel.**

How do you measure a life?

Was it by your actions? How much you changed the world? How many people cried over your death?

No one was crying over his sorry ass.

He had always known, from the minute he was born, that he was destined for Hell, but a sliver of his soul had hoped.

His excuse had lasted until he was 13 and had killed his parents, freeing himself of imprisonment. That moment, as he stood over his father's gurgling body had been his time to choose the man he would become. He had chosen wrong.

He thought back over his existence and couldn't find one memory to clutch to for comfort. There had never been a lasting happiness in his life. He had been given over two hundred years of life and all he had done with it was destroy things.

He had never known the love of a good woman, dismissing it impossible, telling himself he didn't want it, not realising how important it would be for him now. Never knew what it was like for a girl's face to light up when he walked into a room. Never had little ones to carry on his legacy and name.

He had thought he was a free man, but he was delusional to think that someone wasn't always holding on to his chain. At best he was another person's pet, a worse, a play thing.

Satan had grown tired of trying to break him once Wolverine had fallen down the rabbit hole. Sabretooth had nothing to break. He had never loved, never given himself to another person. There was nothing to hold over him to cause him to bend under the Dark Lord's will.

The whippings eventually stopped hurting as they endured. Being released into pits of sex crazed demons didn't terrify him as maybe it should have. While he was not a stranger to sex with men, he had to get used to being the bottom. It didn't take long to find a pleasure in that however, which drove Satan mad.

Once he had been threatened with the torturous death of anyone Creed had ever cared for, but the folly was seen almost as the words tumbled from the Devil's mouth. His father had been dragged out of whatever rock he lived under and given a pair of pliers, but the man couldn't act when he saw what his son had become.

This left very little entertainment. Satan would have to give him something worth while in order to control him. But his chance never came, not now with the runt occupying the Devil's attention. Creed was no more than a second thought. The collar and chains still bound him, trapped within his own head, only being able to communicate with grunts and growls. Little did Satan know that leaving Sabretooth with time for his thoughts and regrets and his nothingness, was probably more torture than a week of beatings could provide.

Creed had been left on a craggy cliff, overseeing Logan being whipped by his dead wife with a cat o' nine tails. He managed to find jealously bloom in his chest. How many times had the runt been married? Three, four times? Women fell all over themselves to be his next bedpost notch.

Speaking of runts, the little man named Puck was hidden behind a boulder, trying to get his attention. Exasperated at the lack of response, he finally ran up and used Creed's bulk to continue to hide.

"You still in?" Puck whispered, peering around. Sabretooth grunted in response, the best he could answer in the positive while maintaining his position as a statuesque gargoyle on the cliff as to not divert Satan's attention away from Logan. The dwarf watched the torture below before running off again into one of the holes dotting the side of the rock wall again, leaving Creed to wonder what the hell he was doing.


	2. Chapter 2

**All characters belong to Marvel.**

"You did a fine job beating him today, Creed." Satan murmured, petting Sabretooth's head absently. Claws pricked his scalp and his face was forced to look up at his master. "Now go clean him up."

The order was supposed to be cruel and humiliating as the Devil unlatched Creed's chain and kicked him across the marble floor of the chamber towards the door. Sabretooth picked himself up and grabbed the yoke with two empty buckets on his way out, which had materialized from nothing.

With eyes watching him from everywhere, he filled the buckets at a pump. The water was rusted and smelled of sulfur. To get to the crucifix field on the outskirts of Hell, he would have to cross the river Styx, not to mention walk the distance with the weight of the buckets on his shoulders. He was content enough not to have to enter the Forest of Despair or the rape pits.

Sabretooth attached the now filled buckets to his yoke and descended from the marble citadel where Satan resided, the feel of soft, dewy grass on his bare feet already a distant memory as he left the towering gate into the beginning of Hell itself. Winged demons circled overhead like vultures, screaming and laughing at him.

Time was not a construct in Hell, it could have been an hour or a minute that he was walking, it all felt like an eternity to him. By the time he found the river's bridge, his feet were bleeding from the sharp rocks. He truly was at the edge of Hell now, not even the demons had followed him out this far to taunt him. The moaning of those nailed to the crosses across the river were sailing on heated winds to him as he lowered his yoke and unlatched the buckets.

He checked around him again and emptied the feted water over the dry land. Creed scooped up water from the Styx and carried them across the bridge with him, walking through all those forgotten, looking for the man that had killed him, landing him in Hell. Puck was speaking to him, once again, hiding behind a rock. Logan gave a slight nod but went limp when his nose picked up Creed's scent.

Sabretooth watched the little man run off again into another hole as he approached Wolverine's cross. He put the buckets down slowly and pulled out the washcloth that was soaking in one of them. Once the cool refreshing water touched the crucified man's skin, Logan sighed at the tingling sensation and opened his eyes at his life-long enemy.

With a strangled, and painful voice, Creed advised him not to drink the water before he began to wash Logan's face of blood.

"Why?"

The more Sabretooth talked, the more blood ran down his neck from the collar he was still wearing. Spikes were buried deep within his throat, a preventative measure for him opening his mouth. "Styx will make you forget everythin' an' you'll be no help to us. On your body it help t'forget th' pain. Makes you strong again." That was the longest sentence he had managed since being fitted with the collar. He dumped the rest of the bucket over the runt's head, wiping at his mouth to prevent any droplets from running in.

"You're with Puck then? What's in it for you?" Wolverine spit air through is pursed lips to blow the rest of the water away from his mouth, feeling the effects of the water restoring his body.

Creed couldn't risk speaking again, but the dead look in his eyes perhaps explained enough. Bending down, he began wiping away blood from the runt's lower half with water from the second bucket.

"Saaaabretooooooth, what are ya dooooooing?" Called one of the flying demons. Soon a swarm came, all calling out asking the same question in unison, drawing attention to him. The screaming became overwhelming and only stopped when Satan's horns crested the hill.

Finishing what he could quickly, Sabretooth stilled with the washcloth in hand on his knees and waited for his master to approach.

"Wolverine looks surprisingly refreshed for a man nailed to a cross." He could feel the burning eyes bore into his flesh. "This is not the water you brought with you." There was a click as his chain was reattached to his collar and he couldn't help but let a yip escape his lips as Satan dragged him up by the neck, lifting him higher than he was, his toes leaving the ground. "You thought that so long as Wolverine was fighting fit, it would give you some reprieve from me. You guessed wrong my little bitch."

The Devil was clever and quick, but he was not a telepath, and Creed thanked his lucky stars for that, because if he ever found out what Creed and Puck were actually up to...well, they were already dead. Sabretooth went sailing into a particularly sharp outcrop of rock and he heard his shoulder blade crack. All he heard was "rip his flesh off" before a flutter of batting wings engulfed him and he was being carried by the demons to another pit he knew all too well. His struggling did nothing but encourage their laughter before he was dropped.


	3. Chapter 3

**All characters belong to Marvel.**

The chains had been shackled to his wrists and ankles, pulling him taught around a smooth, round boulder with his back exposed. His chin rested against a crevice where other chins before him had undoubtedly rested. It was a delicate and painful process he was being subjected to.

A wizened old man sat hunched over him just as he was hunched over the rock, and with a thin blade, was making small, quick cuts, slowly separating a thin layer of Creed's outer skin from his body, no thinner than scraping a knuckle against a wall. He could feel his back filling the void of empty skin with blood, his healing factor sluggish from the drink they had given him to start.

This was not knew to him, but it was still excruciating. If he had to judge which area of his body had hurt the most during this torture based on how often he had passed out, it would have to be his penis and testicles. If is was based on pure terror, it had to have been his face because he was forced to watch as the scalpel moved and layers of his skin were peeled back.

The process took longer the more you fainted as they stopped cutting until you regained consciousness. So far half his back was exposed and he had yet to pass out. He would eventually. He always did.

The man never talked, he just cut, swirled the blade in a cup of pink tinged water, then cut again. His work was his art. Today he did something new however. Creed heard a cap being unscrewed behind him and then liquid seared into the exposed flesh and despite his collar biting into his throat, he screamed to vent his pain.

"That's what I like to hear." The Devil stepped silently from the shadows from the corner of Sabretooth's eye. He nodded and the old man folded the skin back over Creed where it belonged and a small tugging let him know his healing factor was beginning to mend him. "I will never get tired of hurting you, my little poppet. I have you for eternity and I will _never_ let you go."

The pain was still tearing through his body, but it was the affectionate nickname that made him shiver and twitch like a ghost had walked over his grave. Satan's hand was pushed in front of his face, as he was unable to move from the rock. "I can make it stop, if you want." Creed had only given in to this offer once, by licking the hand in front of him. The skin tasted rancid and asinine, and while the torture was then stopped, the humiliation as Satan's lapdog had only begun. From then on, Sabretooth kept his tongue in his mouth as he did now.

Angrily retrieving his hand, the Devil ordered the old man to begin again once Creed's healing factor finished its job, and to use the bottle of vodka liberally, before storming back into the shadows and disappearing from the room, lit only by a fire.

Sagging into the rock, his chains tinkled slightly and he and the old man waited in silence together.

ooooo

Logan missed his ear. Absurd as it was, it was the only thing he could think of while once again nailed to the giant cross among the field of crosses on the very edge of Hell, forgotten for the time being. The pain was a constant and he was able to tune it out long enough to concentrate on his stupid ear.

He wondered briefly if he could ever grow it back, after being severed by the soul sword, or whatever hell the damn thing was that Satan had bragged about. He wondered if the River Styx could restore it. He wondered if Creed would be coming to wash him again, then remembering the way Sabretooth had been taken away and doubted very much if he would ever see the man again.

After the unnerving, uncharacteristic kindness from the feral mutant who had been his vicious enemy for many lifetimes over, a part of him wanted to know what had happened, where he had been taken. Sabretooth was a disgusting sliver of normalcy to him. It brought him comfort to see the familiar face, among the sea of familiar faces who where now out for his blood.

His shoulder hurt. Logan barked out a laugh, then another.

"What's so funny?" Puck appeared from nowhere, yet again. The man had a way about him that left him undetectable it seemed.

"My shoulder's killin' me." A tired, pathetic giggle petered out of him as his head lolled back and forth.

"Right. Please tell me you haven't lost your mind." Puck gave him a disapproving look with hands on hips.

"I'm here, I'm just, where did Creed go?" Logan focused, trying to take some weight off his right shoulder, his ear buzzing with irritation and itchiness.

"Don't know." Puck rolled his eyes. "But he better not be dead."

"What're you two up to anyway?"

"We're bustin' out, and _yooooour_ gonna help."

"Great!" Logan responded optimistically with a strong tinge of sarcasm. "I can't feel my fingers."

"Man, you're real strange when you're loopy."


	4. Chapter 4

**All characters belong to Marvel. I've only read the first three issues of Wolverine: Goes to Hell so I'm shaping the content to suit my story, hope you like it.**

**

* * *

**Creed had been stripped and cleaned by the guards after his broken body was dragged back up the hill to the palace. The cleaning was not as refreshing as one would imagine, but this was Hell after all. It involved him being held up by his neck in a vice attached to a smooth marble wall of the immaculate lavatory, nearly dangling, and definitely choking.

It always began with the hose of frozen water, burning his skin, turning it angry and red. The guards seemed to enjoy that part the most. Thankfully, he was not the only one going through the same treatment - many of Satan's consorts and concubines were being groomed as well. Some of the feistier ones, including himself, remained chained as the servants approached and began to work oils and glitter into skin.

The guards returned and chained them all up together and dragged them through the dungeons on their way to Satan's den. Creed had yet to understand the workings of Hell, why some souls were imprisoned in the bowels of the castle and others were in various levels of pain on the outskirts, but being led through the cages, prepared like one of the Devil's whores, naked and sparkling with gold dust was torturous. He was chased by cat calls and threats of being horribly raped, followed by vicious cackling and general screaming. The stairs leading to the upper levels could not come fast enough.

The guards were as if a young Arnold Schwarzenegger had the powers of Multiple Man. They seems like cookie cutter cutouts, masked by plain metal plates and dressed to show off their muscles and battle wounds. Their strength was inhuman, their humanity nonexistent. They never spoke and unless you were twelve feet tall and had giant horns on your head, they never listened.

The one leading them tugged heavily on the chain and Creed had to stumbled forward to stay standing. The girls swore at him under their breath. While he was forced to live as a concubine among Satan's harem, he was vehemently shunned by the girls. Just like when he was alive, he didn't seem to fit in anywhere.

They marched up the stone steps and through passages until the head guard knocked on the bedroom door, unchained his chattel, and he and his cohorts left the hallway. The bedroom sentries answered the knock and escorted the slaves inside, bidding them to lay about in any of the comfortable cushions or the enormous bed that took up a significant portion of the room itself. Save for Creed. The large, naked male sentry grabbed his collar and dragged him to the end of the bed and attached him to the very short chain that kept him low to the ground on all fours.

The girls lounged, regarding him with disdain, bouncing their legs on their knees and twirling their curls around their fingers. Creed tried to ignore them, realising the humiliating position he was forced to remain, his ass high in the air, his forehead resting on the cool marble floor. A constant reminder that he was Satan's bitch, even the girls mocked him, pulling at his ears, pinching his sides, occasionally fondling him cruelly or just kicking him to watch him bleed. The enchantment on his collar would not allow him to fight back unless his Master gave him permission.

oooo

Puck was poking one of the smaller fire pits next to Logan. He was down from the cross and constantly waiting for a spontaneous attack to happen. Puck brought over some food that he had cooked and handed half of it over to his friend.

Logan took a heavy bite from it, ravenous, and had to choke it down when he realised too late that the meat was rancid. The protein helped fuel his healing factor so he took a second bite, and then a third.

"So what's your plan then?" He grunted, giving a cough as the last of the meat went down his throat.

"Creed's gonna get his hands on that Soulcutter sword and bring it to us." Puck answered around his food.

The absurdity of this plan was not lost on Wolverine, but instead of asking whose brilliant idea it was, he asked, "how's he gonna get his hands on the sword?"

The little man was silent for a moment. "We aren't sure, it's been left in his capable hands."

"We?" Logan's interest was piqued, how large was this organization depending on him?

"Speaking of which," Puck ignored him, "have you seen the big cat lately? He seems to be missing in action."

Logan shook his head no and ate the remaining portions of his dinner. "Eugene, tell me what the hell is goin' on here. I got my worst enemy givin' me sponge baths and you poppin' in an' outta holes everywhere, not t'mention this great escape plan that heavily relies on _me_."

Puck held up his hands in submission but was slow to start his tale. "Most of the people here in Hell have been forgotten. We go about our time on the periphery, stayin' out of trouble as best we can, just waiting. And watching.

Thomas has been here a lot longer than me and he's had a lot of time to observe and plot. We teamed up, I mean, the prospect of getting out of Hell, hard to pass up. Then we just needed an inside man. You can imagine my surprise when Sabretooth fell out of the sky one day. We didn't think anything of it until His Darkness starting using him as a chew toy, much like he's doin' to you now." Puck took a breath, trying to decide what to say next. Logan interrupted him.

"Who's Thomas?"

"Logan."

"Yeah?" Wolverine raised an eyebrow.

"No, I mean Thomas Logan. He told me he's your father."


	5. Chapter 5

**All characters belong to Marvel. I've only read the first three issues of Wolverine: Goes to Hell so I'm shaping the content to suit my story, hope you like it.**

**

* * *

**In life, Sabretooth had had an insatiable sexual appetite, in death, he had learned that his endurance was nothing more than a drop of piss in a bucket compared to Satan.

Creed was trying to take a nap in his awkward position. Thankfully he was mostly ignored and managed five to ten minute increments, awakening only when a ruckus was made as someone came to orgasm in the bed he lay at the foot of.

One of the heavily used girls was laying over the edge, catching her breath. Everyone taking a break from their various bedroom activities as the Devil himself rested against the satin pillows, his arms managing to wrap around three girls on each side of him. The girl was watching Creed with shrewd eyes but he was unaware of her as he dozed lightly.

"Are you sleeping, puppy dog?" She asked loudly, hoping to get him in trouble. The girl, whose name was insignificant to Creed, was a particularly cruel breed of woman, and liked to assert her dominance just as much as Sabretooth himself did. She jabbed a finger into the back of his head, causing his forehead to connect with the marble floor an inch away with such a force that the noise of his skull hitting the ground resounded around the great room.

Creed growled angrily and snapped his sharp teeth at her finger uselessly, straining against his chains. She only laughed derisively and pulled at his ear sharply, causing pain.

"My dear Marion, I would not advise teasing the dog. One day he might bite back." Satan's deep voice rolled off the edge of the bed to Creed's ears.

"Not with that collar on." Marion sat up and rested her feet on Creed's neck, prompting another low growl from him.

"This is true." Satan replied casually.

The whole room heard chains hit the floor and Sabretooth gratefully took charge of his own body and grabbed hold of the feet using him as an ottoman, and ripped her from the cozy bed. His prey dangled by the ankle in his grip, shrieking loudly and twisting away from him.

Creed's claws stretched from his finger tips and with an eager smile, he began to sharpen them against her tibia, spraying blood everywhere and causing her shrieks to turn into screaming. He dropped her and pounced like a lion on his prey, his teeth sinking deeply into her jugular and drinking her blood as it shot into his mouth. He had been starved and this would likely be his only meal in days. He wasn't a particular fan of cannibalism, but if nothing else, Creed was the ultimate survivor.

"Sabretooth, did you just eat her intestines?" The Devil queried as the girls began to writhe against his body.

"Some of them." The feral replied, straining against his collar. He took another bite, this time of her heart, the blood gushing out of his mouth.

"You never cease to entertain me." His master chuckled, finished with him and turning his attentions back to the girls surrounding him.

Creed continued to chew on the remains of Marion, ignoring the sexually deviant behaviour now being performed in the luxurious bed beside him. His glitter was washing off as he was sitting in the pooling sanguine liquid of her body and he was covered in the blood past his elbows and down his mouth. Trails of it dripped down his chest and pooled around his genitals, causing them to itch.

The sentries guarding the four entrances to the room watched silently.

oooo

"My father's here?" Logan was having a hard time processing this bit of news. "Where's he been? I've been down here fer..."

"Probably close to two weeks." Puck informed him as his friend struggled for some sense of time. In response to the questioning look, he pointed to the the black void above them that created the feeling of being locked in the bowels of the Earth. "You can see a dot of light when it's day."

The sky was pitch black, which Logan took to mean it was evening.

"Hasn't anyone just tried to climb back up to the surface?"

Puck shrugged. "That's not an exit back to the real world, my friend. That's just something Satan's put up there to taunt us."

Logan continued to stare up into the blackness, hope visibly leaving his body. "Why haven't I seen him yet?"

Again, another shrug was his answer. "I haven't seen him either, if that helps." It didn't.

"So how did you get Creed on board with all this?"

"Originally, we thought he would be the one to get us outta here. But we ran into a problem with that. The Soulcutter can be used against the Devil, but only by the one cut by it last. Stupid caveat, huh? Anyway, Creed was never cut by it, so that went out the window. Luckily, as you pointed out, the Devil keeps him close as an errand boy, so we're counting on him to get the damn thing so you can use it. Sorry about your ear by the way."

"Even if I kill the Devil, how does that guarantee our escape? And what about all the rest of the cretins down here? I don't wanna have t'kill 'em all over again...I guess fer a third time." Logan muttered. "And what if I fail?"

"If you don't kill him, I'm not gonna talk to you for the rest of eternity." Puck grinned.

"Watch it, Eugene, that might persuade me to fail on purpose." They laughed. "Creed, huh? Never thought he and I'd be workin' together again."

"I'll give you the same advice I gave him: don't fuck this up." The small man replied sternly.

"I'll see what I can do."

oooo

Sabretooth slinked into the hot tub embedded into the marble flooring, paying no mind to the protest of the girls already seated within it. Satan was still occupied in bed and the drying blood was causing his skin to itch. The girls pulled themselves out of the tub in disgust as gold glitter washed out of his hair and blood tinged the waters pink. He was just about to lounge in one of the vacant seats when he was called for by his master.

Slowly he dragged his sore body from the comforting waters and approached the side of the bed, covered with girls lightly sleeping, spats of blood here and there as sex had turned too rough.

"Closer." Satan beckoned. Creed pressed against the side of the mattress with his knees, feeling more naked now that his blood bath had been washed away.

"Closer." Begrudgingly he knelt on the mattress, it dipped down under his weight, causing a red-headed girl beside him to start awake and pull herself away from his reach.

"Closer." Crawling, Creed came to a halt at his master's side, his eyes all white and his jaw clenched.

"Closer." Satan whispered with a malicious smile creeping onto his face. Sabretooth could only afford to pause for half a second before bracing himself over the Devil, lifting a leg up and over to sit over his abdomen uncomfortably. Some girls watched bemused while others chose to take the reprieve and sleep.

A clawed hand as sharp as his own reached up and dragged through his wet blond hair and gently pulled him down. Satan snaked his tongue out and kissed him deeply and Creed could only obey the invasion of his mouth. The Devil stiffened, which he felt against his bare ass, and Sabretooth tried not to strain away from the feeling. If he had learned anything from his nights chained to the end of the bed, it was that Satan didn't care what he fucked, it was the power and control that turned him on. If Creed gave the faintest hint of shrinking away, it would only spur his master on.

He sagged into the kiss, his muscles and back still sore and tired from the last hours, or days, of torture.

Sensing that his pet was nearing exhaustion, and losing interest in the same breath, the Devil broke the kiss, saliva snapping as they parted, and pulled the man down into the crook of his right arm, pushing some of the sleeping girls out of the way to make room. Creed was too tired to care about how bizarre it was to be cradled next to the Lord of Darkness, and could only appreciate the softness of the sheets under him and the comforting smells of sex from the entire evening as he fell deeply asleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**All characters belong to Marvel. I've shaped the content of Wolverine Goes To Hell to suit my story, hope you like it.**

**

* * *

**

When he woke up, the room was empty and he was alone. It was fairly unlike the Devil to just leave anyone in such comfortable surroundings, and it was much unlike the Devil to leave Creed untethered and free to roam at his will.

What he really wanted to do was continue to sleep, but the large sword hung across the vast expanse of room, reminding him of his part of the bargain with Puck and possibly his ticket out of Hell.

Crawling to the edge of the bed and letting his feet hit the floor, sending a bit of a chill up his flesh, Creed realised that he wasn't quite as alone as he thought. The Shadows flickered silently, Satan's personal spies. One slipped under his feet and continued under the bed, probably off to relay that he was awake to the guards.

Realising that he would have very little time, he walked to the wall where Soulcutter hung. It would have been out of reach for most people, but Creed was a tall man. The sword itself was enormous, the blade alone was taller than he was. Unable to control himself, he reached out and dragged his palm along the edge softly, his healing factor knitting up his skin immediately and the blade drank up his blood hungrily.

"Kindly remove your hands from my sword, or I will break them." As with many times before, the Devil teleported through the Shadows and stood like an overwhelming vigil beside Creed.

Sabretooth put a blank look of innocence on his face and then leaned into the sword, both palms spread wide and pressed against the flat blade, staring up at his master with indolence. He was rewarded with a swift backhand slap that caused him to fly back across the room and crack his skull on the marble walls, blacking out.

oooo

The ground shook in rhythmic intervals but nothing could be seen coming down the hill to cause the commotion, but Logan felt it in his gut all the same. Something big was coming, and it was coming for him. Puck had run off somewhere, leaving him by his lonesome, feeling tension twist his stomach and nerves causing him to shake.

A bony hand clamped down on his shoulder, causing his bone claws to shoot out from the back of his hands and a defensive snarl rip from his throat. A man smiled at him, a man that resembled him more than he could say. The smile was not friendly, but not malicious either.

"Son." The man said in a raspy voice. Logan couldn't answer him. "Son." He said again, his voice and smile widening with pride.

"Thomas." Finally came the reply.

"I've been watchin' you for a long long time now. Yer quite the man...my own flesh an' blood." Thomas Logan seemed to have a hard time restraining himself during his second meeting with his son as a father.

The ground continued to shake and clouds were beginning to form overhead. They both noticed it and watched warily until the clouds began to scream and the realisation hit that the overcast was actually a flurry of demons flying in packs towards them.

"James, we ain't got the time I wish we did together an' I'm sorry for that." Thomas grabbed both of Logan's shoulders, trying to get through the urgency of what he was about to relay. "You're about t'go through one of the hardest trials of your life, but you gotta do it, you gotta pull through. We need t'get out of here, an' I'm convinced you're the only one who can do it."

"Who th'fuck _are_ you?" He pulled away from the man, not liking the vibes he was getting from him.

"It's me, it's your pa." Thomas frowned, his temper starting to rile up.

"No, I mean, _who__th__'__fuck__are__you__?_ Am I even dead? How did I get here? An' why am _I_ the guy to free us from Hell?" Another rumble echoed from the distance, growing closer.

"Yer soul is here, ain't it?" The older man growled, not liking the questions and disobedience from his son.

"Why am I here?" He asked quietly, afraid to know the answer.

Thomas was quiet. "Been watchin' you for a long time now. Their ain't a shadow of a doubt in my mind that you've been able to work yerself out of a lot of bad situations. Cripes, you took that Sabretooth guy's head clean off, an' he was a tough sonofabitch. I got you brought down here a bit prematurely t'help me get outta here. You'd do that for your old man, wouldn't'cha?"

Rage spilled from Logan in waves and somehow he was able to contain it all and just stare at the man who claimed to be his father. "What kind o' father sends his son t'Hell?"

Instead of answering Logan's anger, Thomas turned his son around to witness shadows crest the hill before them.

The large figure bearing the whip was unmistakably Satan, coming to break his soul, but it took longer for him to make out Creed, limping slightly with Soulcutter strapped to his back, weighing him down as through an elephant sat on his shoulders, periodically feeling the lick of the whip on his flesh.

Once they were twenty feet away, Sabretooth collapsed under the weight and pain and fell to his knees. Satan spat down at him and ripped the sword from its chains, freeing the blond feral from his burden, and lifted the tip at Logan in challenge.

"I'm going to break you tonight, Wolverine, mark my words."

"Bring it you purple clown!" As Logan charged the Devil, the demons circling overhead screamed in animal lust at the bloodshed that would be inevitable.


	7. Chapter 7

**All characters belong to Marvel. I've shaped the content of Wolverine Goes To Hell to suit my story, hope you like it. **

**

* * *

**

Thomas stood back, disappearing into the shadows just out of reach. He may have grown to love the son he never raised, but his personal safety was still highly valued. His eyes fell to the one named Creed that had helped them locate the sword but couldn't help curling his lip at the man's pathetic broken body, so reminiscent of his other son, Dog.

A horrible scream pulled his attention back to the fight. Logan's bone claws were being clutched by Satan while his son lay on the ground, grabbing his hands in pain. The monster had broken the claws from Logan's hands, rendering him weaponless. Doubt and despair began to cloud Thomas' vision as he watch his son writhe in pain.

As many times before, he watched Wolverine pull himself back together and find a reserve of strength no man but the ultimate fighter could muster. Logan found the Soulcutter sword only feet away from him while the Devil cackled victoriously above him. Wolverine rolled on to his back and grabbed the hilt, dragging it closer inch by agonizing inch until he could grab it with both hands and lift it up. His muscles strained to bring it up and rake Satan's skin with it across the abdomen and was devastate to see that it had no effect.

The Devil stopped his laughing, his face falling into fury at Wolverine's audacity of using his own sword against him. He launched his clawed hand down, closing it around the little man's neck, squeezing tightly and watching his legs squirm fruitlessly.

Logan gnashed his teeth, fighting as best he could as he was slowly strangled. It was without warning that the pressure was softened and he was dropped to the ground, a look of sheer surprise cresting Satan's face, and the whole blade of Soulcutter emerged from his abdomen.

The Devil dropped to his knees, a guttural bellow erupting from his maw, and sagged against the sword embedded within him. Creed stood silently behind him, his claws beginning to flex and a blood frenzy was just on the tip of his tongue. He was brought back to his senses when a rousing shout from Puck echoed down the hill and a torrent of souls and demons rushed the fallen body of Satan, writhing to get at the sword that would entitle the bearer to rule the underworld.

"What happened?" Logan shouted, angry that the sword had not worked and he had almost been decapitated.

"Sword's got my blood on it." Creed smirked hoarsely, hiding his exhaustion. "If anyone's gonna kill th'bastard, it was gonna be me."

Thomas grabbed his son's wrist and hauled him up and over to a pillar of rock while Creed and Puck dashed as well as their abused bodies could allow to the same spot.

"What have ya done?" Thomas grinned up at Puck, who had already begun to scale the rock facade.

"Just riled up the masses. We need the cover to get outta here." Bodies enveloped the Devil, swallowing him whole while he struggled against them to remain dominant...and alive. The sword was burning away his flesh painfully and the masses gnarled teeth and claws were helping to cut him down.

The escapees began to feel the strain of climbing the tall pillar only metres from the ground. Thomas was losing his grip and was about to fall when Logan grabbed his wrist and tried to lift him over to another hand hold, but the strain of the fight, his weakened healing factor, and the weight of a dangling man was almost too taxing.

Creed, bringing up the rear, realised his path was being blocked by the runt's father, but continued stubbornly up the cliff, desperate to escape as everyone else. A hand grabbed his shoulder and then a weight dropped heavily onto his back, dragging him down a few inches.

Creed roared angrily and tried to buck the man when he found Thomas clinging to him for a ride. "Creed, no!" Logan shouted, his voice nearly gone in the heat of the air and exercise.

Sabretooth growled in vehement anger through the pain of his piercing collar. "Get offa me!"

Thomas only clinged tighter, shouting, "You owe me, you animal!"

"I owe you nothing!" Creed bellowed but threw a clawed hand up to grab the next ledge and pulled himself and his burden up, climbing higher and higher into the black void, desperate not to waste any more time or energy.

Logan let out a relieved sigh he saw Sabretooth concentrating on scaling the mountain more than trying to throw his passenger off, and began to climb again upward.

"Are we even makin' any progress?" Thomas finally said, knowing that they were several stories high now and no where closer to escape. In answer, Puck, leading the expedition, disappeared in a ripple of blackness, like an invisible ceiling made of water had appeared.

The trio stared up curiously for a moment before doubling their climbing efforts, hauling ass up to where ever their little friend had gone. Logan made it next and pulled himself up. Creed and Thomas expected his hand to come shooting out to help them up but nothing came back out of the ripples.

The demons were encroaching on them now, realising that souls were escaping the clutches of Hell and knowing that because of their forms, they would never be able to do the same. A batting of wings surrounded Thomas and Creed and they both felt piercing pain from claws raking their bodies, trying to knock them down.

Thomas took the chance and used Creed as a ladder, climbing up the man that not only brought the sword and slayed the beast, but had carried him the rest of the way to safety. His legs disappeared above Sabretooth's head and Creed was left alone to fight off the demons as they swarmed him.

His energy was waning as was his hope. Still no hands dipped down from the blackness to help him. As always, he was left to save himself. Creed dug his feet into the rock and gave one last push of force and jumped into the waters, finding purchase.

He was in a dark marble room, Puck, Thomas, and Logan were laying unconscious on the black floor around him and three terribly tall shadows watched him struggle silently, ominously. Creed felt stinging pain as claws ripped into his back and tried to drag him down to Hell. No one helped.

The marble was amazingly smooth and he slipped further away from his unconscious party. His head dipped back down into Hell. A flying demon clipped his shoulder as it flew by, knocking his grip on the floor or ceiling, he wasn't sure which it was anymore. The heat had somehow intensified around him, the struggle to overthrow Satan seemed to create a fever in every being existing in the underworld.

Creed throat was closing up painfully. The metal spikes in his throat began searing his flesh and against his will, his eyes welled up against the dryness and his vision blurred. A hand grabbed his ankle. Souls were following his lead and climbing the cliffs and pillars of dead earth to the blackness above. Most were not fairing well in the suffocating heat, like this one, and Creed knocked him away with ease and watched the soul pitch down back towards the ripples of bodies covering the earth beneath him, like a sea of flesh.

He tried to regain purchase on the cliff face but as with his own healing factor, his body was wearing down. Two of his claws on his left hand ripped themselves off from his finger tips, blood welling in their place. Sabretooth's head swam as the heat ate up the oxygen around him and his body began to give in to exhaustion.

His left hand delicately felt for a hand hold, minding his burning, bloodied fingers, and forced himself to climb again before his body shut down. He scrambled up the hole and collapsed against the cool tile, his vision fogging until yet more blackness enveloped him.


	8. Chapter 8

**All characters belong to Marvel. I've shaped the content of Wolverine Goes To Hell to suit my story, hope you like it. **

**Author's Note: I don't follow the X-Men comics much these days so I've put together my own line up of team members. **

**

* * *

**

The Shadow Council towered over the four bodies lying in their chambers unannounced. They had been waiting for this. There had been rumbles of a revolt against the Dark Lord and they were prepared to judge those who had managed to escape the confines of Hell. They were all disappointed with the number.

"Eugene Judd, also known as Puck." Began one. His voice was deep and authoritative but the rest of him was indescribable as shadows tended to be.

"The Council has no qualms with his soul passing into Heaven." Responded a second. The third shadow nodded without argument.

"Thomas Logan." They moved on.

"He has been in Hell for a very long time and is well overdue to be returned to the Kingdom of Light."

"Do not forget that he once harvested souls for the Devil, however briefly. He was too manipulative, too scheming."

"I do not want to see this greedy soul in Heaven, but he could be much more dangerous while Hell is in such turmoil." There was a quiet agreement among the trio. Both Puck and Thomas dissolved into particles of light.

"James Howlett, also known as Wolverine."

"This one isn't dead." Replied the second. "His soul should not have been separated from his body. He must be returned to his home."

"How did that even happen?" The third finally spoke.

"The details are unclear to us at this time" The authoritative voice responded. "Possible demonic possession. There is suspicion that it was at his father's request that his soul be harvested early. Let us return him and move on."

Logan shattered into blue light particles and wafted skyward lazily.

"Lastly we have Victor Creed, also known as Sabretooth."

"Hell."

"Hell." Echoed the third.

The first hesitated briefly before disclosing more information. "This soul undoubtedly deserves to remain in Hell for ages, however it has been brought to the attention of this council that this...man...had little control over his own destiny for much of his lifetime."

"That is preposterous, every being has control over their fates. How can you even say this Oslo?" The second replied sharply as though it was a slight against it.

"I speak of Romulus."

"Ahh." Replied both second and third in unison. The name and troublesome nature of that being was known to them, however this was the first time they were called to judge a soul that he had controlled.

"Should we give him a second chance?" The third question.

"He has been given many chances, the soul will not change, the soul will go to Hell." Snapped the second.

The shadows stood tall, regarding Creed lying in a heap on the floor. His breathing was light, his healing factor muted for the time being and blood seeped out of his body on to the black tiles.

"If he is so evil and already destined for Hell as you say, Meaus, what harm will it be to gift him life once again under his own influence?"

"What about the lives he will take because we granted him this chance?" Meaus the second replied.

"You do not care for humans." Cackled the third.

"We will grant him a second chance." Oslo the first said firmly. No one argued.

Creed's body evaporated into yellow light particles and dissipated into thin air in front of the Shadow Council on his way to a new life.

oooo

Logan sat up. His ears only heard silence and a bit of tinnitus. The sun shone down warming his skin and soft green grass cradled him. Movement out of the corner of his eye turned his attention and his senses back to the present. Creed lay not five feet away from him in the grass, face down and naked as the day he was born. He was having a hard time coming round.

His nose told him they were alone. Puck and Thomas had not followed them. Were they still in Hell? Logan tried to decide how that made him feel; his father, who had bargained to bring his son's soul to Hell, now gone without any closure.

Creed snorted and lazily pressed a palm into the ground to lift himself up. As he came up to sitting they exchanged wary glares.

"Over here!" Jean Summers called from across the field they were sitting in. Logan tried to come up to standing but his balance was lost before he got very far. X-Men started to pour out of the surrounding trees and it occurred to him then that he was sitting in one of the back fields of the X-Mansion.

Ororo touched down feet from Logan as she landed, appraising the threat of Sabretooth so near. Creed merely sat, clumsily cross legged, staring into his palm at a scar that ripped across it and ignored them both.

The group of X-Men approached, most trying valiantly not to stare at the two naked men sitting in the grass. Logan tried to stand again, this time successful.

"You've been gone a long time, my friend." Hank clamped a hand on Wolverine's shoulder, offering a lab coat he had fled the mansion wearing. Logan took it with an appreciative noise and put it on while Creed started to stand, making half the group step back a few paces to avoid him.

"Have I?"

"What shall we do with Sabretooth?" The group fell silent at Storm's question.

"I'm not so sure that's Sabretooth at all." Jean replied quietly.

Even Creed stared at her then, wanting an explanation. "Course I'm me." He grunted.

"It doesn't feel like you." Jean tapped her temple softly indicating that her telepathy was saying different.

Creed looked down at his scarred palm again in doubt.

* * *

**Author's Note: I do have plans for a sequel but it may be a while before anything's posted.**


End file.
